


His Father's Eyes

by jane_x80



Series: Nothing Like the Sun (or Kirk's Eyes) [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blue Eyes, Daddy Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: Jim's thoughts on his own eyes.





	His Father's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last little thing I wrote about Jim Kirk's eyes. There's reference to Tarsus IV and child abuse. This Kirk's not a terribly happy person.

Jim flinched when he saw his reflection in the mirror. You would think that he would be used to the sight of his own eyes by now, now that he was approaching his thirtieth birthday. Three decades of life with those eyes. But there were days when they made him do a double take.

It was no wonder that Winona had never been able to look him in the eye. He had George’s eyes. Most of his features were really Winona’s, down to the bitterness and anger that he held close in his soul. But his eyes were all George. All big and blue, they made him look bright-eyed and bushy tailed, as if, like George, he’d joined Starfleet because he believed in it, and not because he’d been dared to do it. He’d seen the holos and the vids of his father, and especially now as he got older and started to look even more like him, he understood why she had had to leave him behind, had to remove herself from his presence.

After all, he had killed his father and taken his father’s eyes. It was no wonder that even as a child, Winona couldn’t bear to look at him. He’d learned to hate himself for it too. And sometimes, during those quiet, dark, lonely, sleepless nights, sometimes he hated his father for dying and giving him his eyes. The world would have been a better place if George had kept his fucking eyes and his life, and Jim had died instead.

God, he hated his eyes.

It was why Frank had enjoyed beating the crap out of him, even before he reached his first decade of life. Because Frank blamed him for being an abandoned husband and stepfather to a devil child who refused to bow down to him, even when he applied his fists to the boy. Who insisted on being himself despite what his teachers wanted, or what society thought he should be. Because he never once stopped his defiance. But mostly, because everyone knew why Winona couldn’t stay on Earth, stay with them, stay with Jim. Because Jim had his father’s eyes. And he knew why she couldn’t love him, her own son. Because she blamed him for her husband’s death.

And then, after the car over the cliff fiasco, the final straw, and he was sent away, on Tarsus IV, Jim’s eyes had attracted the attention of Governor Kodos. Not because of his father. But for other, more disturbing reasons.

Better not to think of that place. Or that man. Or what had been done to him. What he had had to do in trade for food for his kids. And he’d gotten away with it. And survived that godforsaken place. All because he had pretty eyes.

All the more reason to loathe them. Dying would have been so much easier. Cleaner. For everyone involved.

And yet, he learned he could use them, those infernal eyes of his. Use them to get whoever and whatever he wanted. To fuck him, and to receive things for it. And later, he’d learned that not only could he use his eyes to get people to fuck him, but also to allow him to fuck them, and there was always some kind of payment or trade involved. Always. And as much as he hated people for falling for his eyes, he hated himself even more for using them. And for continuing to use them even now that he was captain of a starship, captain of Starfleet’s flagship Enterprise. He used them during fragile negotiations, First Contact missions and whatever else that they asked of him. His fame had spread throughout the galaxy and he knew that his eyes had been described in poetry and song in at least fourteen different languages. Idiots. They’re just eyes. Hell, Andorians were blue all over. Only his eyes were blue. But if people were going to fall for them, he was going to use them. Every single time.

He’d learned to whore out his body on Tarsus, his eyes being the bait and hook. After all, a practically skeletal starving child had nothing else to offer, except his pretty eyes. Nothing had changed now. Not really. The only difference was he was whoring himself out for Starfleet, and for the most part the sex was consensual. If by consensual, it meant that his own consent had no bearing on the proceedings. He did his duty. And he did it well.

Because they expected him to arrive with his sexy new ship, his legendary fucking eyes and his more than attractive, young, genius crew. And like a performing monkey, he defiled his father’s eyes and did whatever was required of him. It was what he’d been trained to do, after all.

And he hated them for it. Hated himself even more for allowing it to happen.

If he could get away with gouging those eyes out so they would stop staring at him, the blue so bright in the bathroom light, looking at himself knowingly, sneering at him, he would. Because even though other people thought he was a hero, they knew what he was. The biggest goddamn whore in the fucking universe.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out angstier than I'd intended. Ooops.
> 
> Hope you all liked this series. Thank you all! :)
> 
> -j  
> xoxo


End file.
